I'm not going to beat around the bush that my ball is constantly lost in. It was tough to watch Justin Thomas casually line up perpendicular to the hole and hit the ball with the confidence of Rory McIlroy playing putt-putt. I mean, I was over here thinking that my inability to drive straight, chip with any consistency or accuracy, and rock bright pink pants that could be seen from space were the only things holding me back from finishing in double digits, but apparently a lack of testosterone can be added to the list.
Simply put, it takes balls to intentionally shoot away from the green. I don't care how many times he got on bended knee to accurately judge the break. The ghost of Arnold Palmer could have been whispering tips into my ear and I would have been singing "LALALALA" as loud as I could to drown him out, because there's no way I would have risked making myself look stupid. That could have been the most honest lie in the history of world, and I still would had my ball traveling seven feet east of the hole after refusing to take it at face value. I guess it's not surprising that having an unquestioned belief in one's eyes and hand-eye coordination makes a good golfer, but I never thought I would see the day where I would argue that having testicles that tickle the grass was something integral in picking up that seemingly unattainable thing they call a 'birdie'. I guess I just had to witness a professional golfer sink a long one while looking like a blind person to the untrained eye before I did.